


In These Last Moments Between Us

by Salamee (tribridposie)



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: But also no, F/F, Hogwarts, I started this at 4 am one night and ended it at 3 am the next night, Might kill one of them at the end idk, Penelope’s been soft for Josie since the beginning, The development of a toxic pretty girl but it’s okay, The development of a toxic sisterly relationship, but maybe yes, gryffindor!hope, hizzie if you squint, hufflepuff!josie, kind of a remake of my last HP Posie au, might make one of them a deatheater at the end idk, slytherin!lizzie, slytherin!penelope, the relationship we deserved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29674338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tribridposie/pseuds/Salamee
Summary: Disclaimer: I have not seen season 2 or 3, and nor do I plan to.
Relationships: Hope Mikaelson/Lizzie Saltzman, Penelope Park/Josie Saltzman
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29





	In These Last Moments Between Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I have not seen season 2 or 3, and nor do I plan to.

* * *

_**FIRST YEAR** _

First year is undoubtedly the hardest for Josie, overfilled with one too many emotions. Her eyes focused on one too many things, ears taking in the words of dozens, mouth moving too fast to comprehend.   
  
The train is loud, she thinks, the _trains_. And the people, god, the people are bumping into one another too often, and her father looks lost, and Lizzie’s too busy with losing her temper to really know what to do.

Malivore mewls in his cage, crying to his owner. Josie feels horrible, the suffering of the poor cat is obvious, his body going crazy at the sensory overloads. 

“I’m sorry, Mal. I’m trying to find it.”

She whispers, watching his eyes as he listens to her, ears perked. He looks away, going back to his miserable noises.

“Josie! Shut that cat up, will you?”

Lizzie’s face is red, and her hair is already over the place, blonde strips puffed haphazardly.

”I’m sorry, Lizzie. I’m trying to get him to be quiet. He’s miserable in the cage!”

”Then train him!”

Lizzie nods over to her own cat, a white ball with dark spots she is, the wretched thing. She hates Josie more than anything, the feeling being mutual.

She hisses as brown eyes land on her, face contorted into that of anger as she sends that catty glare towards her owner’s sister.

Marge, the ugly thing is called, name as hideous as the feline itself. 

Josie frowns, dragging her eyes away from the mean old cat, zeroing on the platform signs overhead.

”Dad, how do you not know where it is?”

Alaric looks back for a brief moment, waving his hand in the air. His eyes are sunken and his face shows evidence of sleepless nights.   
  
“Gah, it’s been years, Lizzie. Give me a moment.”

Both girls turn to look at each other, Josie shaking her head in attempt to discourage her sister from spouting another snarky comment.

She sees his father stop a flustered man in a trench coat, frustration clearly written on his face as he snaps to look at Alaric, sending a dirty look.

She assumes her father is asking for directions, based on the look of confusion that passes through the man before he waves his hand in the air, resuming his hurried walk to the opposite direction.

Lizzie groans besides her, stomping her foot in that childish manner only Lizzie could pull off.   
  
She feels the sparks of a tantrum coming, of disaster, really, because when it was in public the horribleness seemed to tenfold.

It wasn’t that Lizzie could help it, no, she was bipolar. She didn’t choose it, she didn’t like being so bossy and mean; or so she told Josie.

She’d weep and yell, scream and kick, swear up and down that if she could better herself she would do anything, anything for Josie. 

One too many empty promises were made and never fulfilled, and one too many bonds were broken.

”God, by the time we find that stupid thing we’re gonna be sixth years!”

Her lip’s in a snarl, and her eyes are rolled so far into her head Josie can only see whites.

She opens her mouth to utter an excuse, a comforting gesture, anything, really, but she bumps into somebody, disrupting their own wild family.

The boy has an afro, floofed up nicely, Josie thinks, his smile whiter than any other set of teeth too. He grins, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as she stammers out an apology.

”Nah, nah, it’s cool.”

He offers his hand, his skin dark and contrasting to her own as she grasps it firmly.

His brown eyes land on the squealing cat, amusement flaring up as he watches the thing scream up a lung.

”You’re looking for platform 9 3/4 too, right?”

He whispers it, eyes wide as he’s leaning in like it’s some grand secret, which it sort of is, at least to muggles, that is.

”Yeah! You too?”

He nods his head vigorously, throwing his thumb over his shoulder to the rest of his companions. She only sees now that there’s a set behind him, a girl and a boy, features too similar to call them anything but family.

The girl eyes her suspiciously, her eyes roaming her body as they finally set their gaze on her. She _hmphs_ , crossing her arms as she leans into what Josie must assume is her brother.

The boy, only an inch or two taller, a complexion darker, and an expression lighter, grins as he bumps the other boy with his elbow.

”We’re on our way over there now, but you’re gonna owe us a favor for that one.”

He nods his head towards his parents, who are talking amongst themselves, a little debate, it seems.

She donns a toothy smile, nodding as she offers her hand to him as well.

”I’m Josie, I’m with my sister Lizzie and my dad, they’re over there.”

She points, eyes finding a teary-eyed Lizzie who shakes, her skin turning red as she stands around a dazed Alaric.

“She blow a gasket?”

”Something of the sorts, she’s just eager.”

The girl hums, turning her back to them as she moves up to stand beside’s her father, whose hand immediately reaches down to scruff at her hair.

”Alright, come on, I think the train leaves soon.”

The darker skinned boy jabs at his friend, or brother, Josie isn’t sure, they don’t look alike. 

“Dude, introductions?”

“Oh yeah! I apologize, I’m Milton, and that’s Kaleb! The girl, she’s cool, trust me, that’s Kym.”

Kym, that’s a pretty name, only as pretty as the girl herself.

Kaleb, he looks nice enough, but it’s obvious he dabbles in the mischievous area.

Milton, he’s precious, a sweet boy, and it’s clear enough by the way he grabs Josie’s hand and starts walking towards her fuming sister, who has apparently, already _blown a gasket_.

The whites of her eyes are no longer a clear color, only a mash of red as liquid gathers on her bottom eyelid, threatening to spill any moment now.

She releases Milton’s hand, bless the boy, since he takes a step back cautiously, unaware of how to deal with the situation at hand.

She grabs at Lizzie’s hands, intertwining their fingers. They’re cold, and it’s not too odd, Lizzie herself being the ice queen. 

“Breathe, Lizzie, please.”

She utters the comforting words that seem to always do the trick, pushing their foreheads together as Lizzie finally lets the tears stream and the sob curl from her throat.

”He ruins everything, Jo. This was supposed to be _our_ year.”

She glances, the sight breaking her, Alaric, sitting on an empty bench, his posture slouched and eyes blank as he stares the floor down. He’s embarrassed, she knows. He’s embarrassed of being such a failure of a dad, and it’s okay, because Josie knows he tried, and that was good enough.

Milton looks off into the distance, where his family, Josie still wasn’t sure, were walking off.

He tugs gently at her coat, nodding his head to the side.

”We have to go soon.”

She nods, grabbing hold of Lizzie’s hand and tugging at her, driving her own cart with one arm.

The task is difficult, and she feels bad for leaving her father behind in his own dazed haze, but they should really get going, and it wasn’t like he was gonna notice they were already gone.

”Milton, this is Lizzie, my sister.”

The boy sends an award winning smile to the blonde besides her, waving enthusiastically before picking up the pace, skipping every few steps.

Lizzie’s gasps for breaths seem to calm down, much like Malivore the miserable cat, who has tired himself from all the screeching he’s previously done.

Marge, the hideous thing, still sitting perfectly poised in her cage, like a statue.

“I love you, Josie.”

She smiles, a grin, and it’s not because this is something that’s not said often, no, it’s because she can tell that Lizzie means at least half of it.

Her eyes sparkle and there’s a gentle never before seen smile playing on her lips.

”I love you too, Liz.”

Ahead of her, she hears hollers, her head snapping in time to see Kaleb running full frontal force into a column, the scream stuck in her throat.

Her eyes land on the sign hung above, _Platform 9 3/4_.

”Milton! Is that what we do?”

The boy yells a faint _yes_ , grabbing ahold of his cart and too running into the brick.

“That looks fun.”

The tone isn’t sarcastic, nor excited, it’s bland; tasteless. Something too much unlike Lizzie.

She hears a grumble before Lizzie releases her hand, screeching in that ear drum splitting tone before disappearing, cart and devil cat with her.

Josie gasps, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Knowing herself, she’d somehow miss, completely running off into the train tracks.

“Don’t think like that, Jo.”

The whisper gets drowned out by the whistle of a train, her eyes finding those of an amused Kym, who gestures to the wall. It’s a rude gesture, Josie thinks, she’s terrified of making a fool of herself and this girl’s hurrying her? 

She huffs, her breath visible in the air.

”God...”

Her feet are moving, and she’s terrified of breaking an ankle, loosing her footing and maybe taking down someone else with her. She promises to be the best witch there can be if she somehow makes it out alive, eyes shutting tightly as she waits for the impact of brick and metal.

It never comes.

* * *

The train ride isn’t anything special, nothing but cold and lonely, and the only company Josie gets for the first few minutes is the greenery that passes by in a blur.

She often hears people walking outside her cabin, yelling, hollering, older kids, mostly, screaming a greeting to their friends.

If they’re being truly stupid, one will fully run into the door, by accident or not, she’s not sure, their body pressed against the window as they cackle.

She hadn’t seen Lizzie since they found the platform, though she had no doubts the girl had already managed to find a clique and becoming fast friends with them.

There was a faint humming, echoing through the halls of the train, creating an almost eerie atmosphere. The voice sounded feminine, a light tone. 

She had failed to find Milton or Kaleb, having been completely lost in the rush of parents kissing their children goodbye, crowds weaving through one another as they desperately pushed their kids onto the train.

She had bumped into a girl, auburn hair and blue eyes, looking just as lost as Josie, a certain familiarity behind her eyes. 

A very beautiful girl, indeed, flaring Josie’s cheeks into a bright red as she looked in a panic, trying to put an apology into words.

”It’s okay.”

The warm smile had been enough, eyes crinkling as she turned to face the train, walking off without another word.

The sudden screech of the cabin door called for her attention, a distorted figure behind it.

The silhouette pulled, and pushed, trying to open the stuck door, Josie couldn’t help but laugh into her hand.

After what seemed to be just about a decade, a small girl opened it, triumphant smile and all. She dusted off her robes, green eyes catching brown orbs.

She seemed shocked, a little embarrassed, which Josie would be too if she had such a difficult fight with the door too.

”Ahem, I apologize for the show. I wasn’t aware the cabin was occupied.”

Josie crinkled her nose, attempting to wipe the smile off her face. 

“It’s okay, it was entertaining.”

Josie gestures to the seat across from her, only widening her smile as the girl takes a step inside, sliding the door close behind her.

”My name’s Josie, Josie Saltzman.”

Her hair’s curled, a pitch black, the same color of her tiny painted nails. It looks soft, compelling, giving Josie the urge to run her fingers through it at least once.”

”I’m Penelope.”

Penelope gingerly sat across from her, legs crossing in a proper manner, hands resting atop her knee. 

“Nice to meet you, Penelope!”

She offers her hand, in the same way she’s done to everyone new in her life, reciting the ways her mother had taught her, the manners she’d engraved into Josie’s young mind.

”I’m a Slytherin, and based on your look alone I’ll take the guess that you’re Gryffindor.”

Josie’s brows furrow, shaking her head slightly.

“No, I’m a first year, are you second? You look a little too tiny.”

The girl stammers, eyes wide in an expression of shock at the insult, at least to her that is, her height is a sensitive topic.

”No, I’m a first year too!”

”Then how do you know you’re Slytherin? And why aren’t you wearing Slytherin robes, then?”

”I haven’t gotten sorted yet. I just know, though.”

”Oh, well in that case, I’m probably Gryffindor.”

”I know.”

Josie doesn’t quip back, unsure of how to respond after that.

A beat passes, only a second before Penelope can’t hold her tongue anymore.

”You’re pretty.”

The compliment catches the twin off guard, never having received one from someone other than her parent’s friends. 

“Thank you, I like your eyes.”

She offers the compliment, taking in the sight of hazel eyes shining for a moment, happiness passing through Penelope.

”I know, I’m pretty too.”

Josie nods, no need to agree verbally, having already admit it once.

“So we’re both first years, at least we’ll have each other now.”

”Unfortunately, but I know I’m good enough to match that of a third year.”

“You have confidence. I like it.”

Penelope laughs, scooting away from the back of the cabin seat, leaning into Josie’s space. The interval between both seats isn’t much, and their knees are nearly touching now.

”You’re gonna be my friend.”

”I am?”

”Of course.”

”Okay!”

She bounces in her seat excitedly, proud of herself for making a new friend, all by herself. 

Penelope grins, pushing herself to stand, leg hitting Josie’s as she plops besides the 11 year old.

”Saltzman, eh? That’s an interconnected name with the Salvatores.”

”Yeah, my uncles are Damon and Stefan, though I haven’t seen them in years. Not with everything that my family went through.”

”I have a book, about your family. About nearly all the families. I have to hide it under my bed, or I risk my father throwing me out the window along with the wretched thing.”

She frowns, thinks that a father throwing out their clearly excellent daughter is not very magnificent. Her eyebrows raise, asking the question by themselves.

”I’m a Park, cutie.”

”Oh.”

It takes more than ten minutes for the train to properly hit, crash, and burn. A _Park_. In her school, in Hogwarts.

In her train car! A Park! 

Her eyes are downcast, emitting a sadness that spreads through Josie, realization telling her that she could never truly be friends with a Park.

They’re mean. Mean people whose only purpose in life is to watch the world burn.

“It’s okay, Josie.”

Soft skin connects with her own, fragile digits wrapping around her wrist in a delicate manner, like Penelope is dealing with porcelain.

”I’m not my family, and neither are you.”

The thought brings a smile to Josie’s face, if only for a minute. A fantasy that can only survive for mere moments.

And Josie lets it.

* * *

“Harry Potter’s on the train with us, I hear.”

Josie hums, contemplating what this truly means for Hogwarts. Harry Potter, here. It was a distant thought, not too important to her.

”I can’t wait to see Lizzie trip over her own feet to be friends with him.”

Penelope’s perfect eyebrows furrow, confusion written throughout her face.

”Who?”

”My sister, Lizzie.”

”She’s older?”

”No, same year. Twins, fraternal, obviously.”

”You? Fraternal twin?”

Josie nods, her tiny fingers fidgeting with the bag of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Bean, finally managing to be successful at opening it.

”Is she as cute as you?”

Josie pops a bean into her mouth as Penelope asks, the inhale of air she takes sucking the bean into her very throat.

The daft taste of earwax fills her tastebuds, her airway trapped by the cursed bean.

Her eyes water, hands flailing in a headless chicken-like manner, her feet tapping the floor rhythmically in a panic.

Penelope taps her back, small hand slapping as hard as able to, the young girl panicking too as she repeatedly hits her new friend’s back.

”Breathe! Please!”

The bean pops out, flies out, to be exact, a half-chewed mess in the corner of the adjacent seat. 

Panic rises in green eyes, hands reaching to grab her jaw tightly. She’s forced to stare into Penelope’s very soul as the girl checks her out, a hand on her wrist.

”You didn’t die on me, right? I’d be eaten alive if I killed you before any real contest started.”

A swat to the arm, that’s what Penelope deserves, a pinch to the hand. 

“Ow! Josie!”

She frowns, rubbing at the red area of skin, the victim of Josie’s hateful acts, she says, sticking her tongue out before squealing as Josie reaches to pinch her again.

”Don’t try to distract me again! Tell me about Lizzie.”

“Choking wasn’t a distraction! Anyways, there’s not much. We’re polar opposites.”

Penelope raises a single eyebrow, crossing her arms, demanding a more thorough answer.

”She’s blonde, blue eyes. Really pretty, prettier than me. She can be mean sometimes, but she doesn’t mean to. She just has troubles, and she’s talented, Penelope. She’s the perfect person, and I wish I could be more like her.”

A raspberry blows, Penelope rolling her eyes as she swipes at the air in a nonchalant manner.

”Ugh, blonde.”

Her flat palm presses the space of seat next to Josie’s thigh, allowing for Penelope to lean closer, weight supported by the single arm.

”Back to that, being perfect is overrated.”

”How so?”

”Nobody loves a normal perfect person, Josie. It’s the imperfections that make someone so fixated on you. Everyone’s definition of perfect differs, and it’s the small, unusual things that make you, well perfect.”

”Who taught you that, your Mom?”

Pain, resentfulness, maybe, flashes through green eyes and disappears as soon as it was there.

”No, a house elf.”

Penelope leans impossibly closer, causing Josie to lean against the cold window.

”You have brown eyes. I have green eyes. I’d take brown over color any day. You’re tall for an 11 year old, I’m not. You’re a colorful person, I live in black.”

Penelope smiles, a tiny little up turn of the corners of her lips.

“I’m perfect, and so are you. We’re just perfectly different.”

“Lizzie would’ve never said that.”

”Excuse my language, but Lizzie sounds like she might have a stick up her arse.”

The incredulous gasp that follows cracks Penelope up, her laugh filling the train car, echoing out into the now empty hall.

“Don’t be mean, Penelope.”

The ghost of a smile she wears is enough to send Penelope back into a fit of smiles and laughter, sending the girl closer.

Their sides are pressed tightly together; spreading warmth, and Josie finds out that she doesn’t mind it at all.

Before anyone has the opportunity to say anything else, the loud train whistle blows, signaling the end to their ride.

Penelope perks at the sound, jumping from her seat in excitement. She grabs at Josie, warm hand enveloping her own before she’s getting dragged out into a rapidly populating hallway.

”The castle, it’s beautiful, Josie. Trust me!”

Penelope she does trust, jovially following the girl as they run to the instructor, a tall, gigantic man.

Hagrid, his name is, a soft fluffball. She grins her way past him and her and Penelope clamber onto a boat, unsteadily rowing as fast as they can to get there first.

The rowing hurts her weak, noodle arms, and though they are not in fact the first ones there, Penelope still seems content.

Josie decides she’s content too, if only for the small moment where it’s just Penelope and her. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Marge (Lizzie’s cat), is supposed to be Merge, but whose crazy enough to name a cat that?  
> \- Both Marge’s and Malivore’s fur are meant to represent the magic of Lizzie and Josie. (Josie tending to lean towards those dark spells and Lizzie towards the lighter ones but having her moments where she uses harmful spells. During her breakdowns, for example.)  
> \- Malivore has black fur, while Marge is mostly white with black spots.  
> \- MG hasn’t started calling himself MG yet, I think it’s a process that only starts when he meets Lizzie and/or Penelope.  
> \- Kym is a year younger, like Ginny.  
> \- Both the Parks and Mikaelsons have dark history with Voldemort, being often on the wrong sides of history. The Mikaelson switch teams often, only ending on the good side after a few tries. The Parks have only ever stayed on Voldemort’s side.  
> \- Penelope’s not perfectly mannered, she grew in a household where it was oneself first, so she tends to be arrogant and selfish, even as a young girl.  
> \- People aren’t perfect. Josie’s initial attempt at magic is horrible, and Penelope is not overpowered. Hope and Lizzie are on the same level, where they don’t have too much difficulty but don’t get it perfect every time. Milton and Kaleb are somehow worse than everyone else, though they mostly excel in trick spells.


End file.
